


Street Rat

by pinecovewoods



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, but just for a few sentences, the delancey's are assholes plot twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinecovewoods/pseuds/pinecovewoods
Summary: Racetrack Higgins, unlike many others, hasn't changed his selling spot in six months. Why would he, when the only angel in Manhattan walks past his corner everyday





	Street Rat

Racetrack Higgins, unlike many others, hasn't changed his selling spot in six months. Why would he, when the only angel in Manhattan walks past his corner everyday. It took him a while, but eventually he was able to strike up a conversation consisting more than 'here's your pape.'.

"Extra, extra! Beautiful girl causes all hearts to stop, you heard it right 'ere folks!"

The obviously fake headline shouted from behind the girl causes a smile to spread across her face. She spins around, standing face to face with the boy she's come to know and love.

"No one is gonna buy a paper with that as the headline," she says, grabbing the folded paper out of the mischievous boys hand.

"I disagree, I's already sold three just by sayin' your name," he smirks, folding his arms across his chest in satisfaction.

"Don't lie to me, Higgins," she replies, placing a dime in his paper bag, "it stings, right in the heart."

"I ain't never lied to you's, Y/N," Race says, taking the coin out of his bag, "I ain't ever made you pay for a pape either, don't you's try and start now."

"You know I always end up givin' the money to Jack to slip in your bunk, right?"

The smile on the boys face rivals the beam of the sun as he wipes the beads of sweat off of his forehead, blue eyes sparkling down at her.

"You's always been good to me, Y/N," he says, "ain't you tired of me yet?"

She smiles back, swatting his upper arm with the paper.

"That ain't gonna happen."

\---

"Morning newsboy," she smiles, tapping the blonde on the shoulder, "got anything good for me today?"

The boy smiles back, tucking his cigar in his shirt pocket.

"Got one right 'ere special," he says, flattening the paper, "'Manhattan newsboy claims to have seen an angel', best story in town."

Her reply is cut off by a sneering voice from behind the pair.

"Well would you look what we have here," he says, "lil' Y/N associating with a dirty newsie."

"What's it to ya Oscar?" Race asks, teeth gritted.

"It'll be interesting to see how your father reacts to this development, Y/N," Morris says, "don't think he'd take to it kindly."

"What I do in my free time is none of my father's business," Y/N says, shooting glares at the two bullies, "besides, he knows I go out and buy a paper everyday."

"Well, we'll just see about that," Oscar practically growls.

Morris shoves Race into a nearby wall, he and his brother quickly taking off down the street. The boy stares after them, making sure they didn't turn around for another fight.

"Idiots, wish I could give them a good soakin'." She says, shaking her head. "You okay?"

"They've done worse," Race replies, brushing down his shirt, "they know your father?"

"Lots of people do," she replies, swallowing a bit, "he's a doctor uptown, helped out the Delancey's a time or two when their dad got injured working on the trolly."

"Oh, you're..." Race stops himself, swallowing back the words he wants to say.

_Better than me in every single way._

"I'm?" She prompts, eyebrows raised.

Race smiles, heart melting at the prospect of a girl like her being friends with a guy like him.

"You're amazing, 's all," he says, handing her the paper, "here, from 'fore we's got interrupted."

Y/N smiles back, placing a dime in his palm in exchange for the paper.

"Don't even try to give that back," she teases, "we all know it won't work."

Race stares at the spot where her fingers brushed against his hand, half a smile on his face.

"I'll uh," he mentally shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as he looks back up at her, "I'll see you's tomorrow?"

"Bright and early."

When she returns home that night, it's as if she can sense the tension in the air before she enters.

"When I tell you to go buy a paper never were the words 'make friends with the newsies' uttered from my mouth."

Her father's voice made her jump as she closes the front door, and the girl to swallows down her nerves.

"They're just kids, papa," she says, "some of them are my age, and I'm polite, just like I am to everyone else I come in contact with."

"That's not what I've been told," he barks, "the Delancey boys have been kind enough to tell me exactly how polite you are with those...riff raff."

"Riff raff is not the word I would use," she says boldly, causing the man to slam his hand down on the table.

"I will not have you ruin the reputation of my name by hanging around those street rats," he shouts, "you are an upper class girl, and you will hold yourself as such. Those ruffian children should not receive one dime of the money that I worked for, they do not deserve it."

"They're working just as hard for mere pennies," she says, taking a step forward, "if not harder. They're just children, papa, and a lot of them are younger than I am. They're orphans, or they're working to feed their own families. That doesn't give you or anyone the right to treat them as anything less than us, if anything they deserve to be treated as better than us."

The house is silent for a few moments, the man breathing heavily through his nose. He moves slowly, confidently, and points at the door.

"Get out."

The rapid knocking on the lodge door woke most of the boys, and with Race being second in command, he took it as his responsibility to see who it was. It just happened to be the last person he ever expected to see outside his home after sunset.

"Y/N?" He tucks his cigar into his shirt pocket, worry on his face, "what's wrong darlin'?"

The tears spill over her eyes after he asks, throwing her arms around the boy as she sobs.

"He kicked me out," she finally says, "my father. I stood up to him, defended you and the other newsies and he kicked me out."

Race wraps his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest. He strokes her hair, trying to calm her down so he can bring her inside.

"I-I'm sorry," she says, pulling away and wiping underneath her eyes, "I shouldn't be here, but I hadn't anywhere else to go."

"Nonsense, you's always welcome 'ere," Race replies, wiping a stray tear form her cheek, "c'mon, let's get inside before both of us catch a cold."

He leads her in with an arm around her shoulders, shooing the other boys away and telling them to go back to bed. She follows him to his part of the room, half a smile on her face as he hands her some of his clothes to change into.

"I'll keep the boys out," he says, "just open the door when you've changed."

She does as he tells her, and a feeling of safety and comfort falls over her as she slips on his checkered shirt. He comes back in as soon as she opens the door, smiling softly.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you," she whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "truth be told I don't really have any other friends I could call on. No other friends in general, actually."

"Well you's got us," Race smiles, "we ain't much, but we're 'ere, always."

"Can I come sell with you tomorrow?" She asks hesitantly. "Just a few papers so I can figure out how it's done? I promise I won't be a hinderance. And I'll split the money with you so you don't loose anything from helping me."

"Shh," Race stops her rambling, placing a hand on her cheek, "course you can. 'N don't worry 'bout the money. I bet you's a natural."

She blushes, looking down at her shoes.

"I appreciate this, Race," she whispers, "more than anything. Most guys wouldn't do this."

"Well I ain't most guys," Race smirks, motioning to the cot, "c'mon, we needs rest if we's gonna sell tomorrow."

Five weeks later and true to his prediction, Y/N's a natural seller.

"I swear, sometimes it seems like you was born to be a newsie," Race says one afternoon after watching Y/N sells her last paper, shaking his head, "you make a good sellin' partner."

"Shut up," she shoves him lightly, rolling her eyes, "you're just sayin' that cause you's my teacher, idiot."

"You's even startin' t' talk like us!" Race exclaims, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "I'm so proud."

"Yeah well," she shrugs a bit, "been with you's for five weeks, things start t' rub off."

Race watches as her eyes dim just the slightest bit, twisting his lips into a frown.

"You've been back there at all?" He asks quietly.

"Not since we got my stuff," she replies, "had t' sneak in through the window then. My brother wouldn't even look at me."

"Hey, shh," Race pulls her into a nearby alley, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean t' bring it back up."

"I jus'," she shakes her head, blinking away the tears threatening to spill over, "I guess I just still don't get it. How he could look at his own flesh and blood and kick me out just because I made friends with you."

"Ya know," he stops, kicking a rock with his shoe, "ya never told me what actually happened. Jus' that he kicked you's out because of us."

"Race, I..." she shakes her head again, "I can't use his words, call you those things...I can't."

"Hey now, I knows you don't mean them," he says, "whatever they are, you's can tell me."

"He said you were riff raff, street rats," she whispers, looking at the ground, "ruffians. Said that you all didn't deserve any of the money he worked for. And when I defended you, when I said that you lot deserved the money more than probably anyone else in the city, he told me to get out. First thing that came to my head was to come to you."

"Well I'm glad you did," he smiles, "couldn't stand the thought of you's out wanderin' the streets alone."

He brings a hand to her face, trying to catch her gaze.

"You know I don't think what he says is true, right?" She asks. "If anything I think you 'n the other newsies are by far the best people I've ever met in my entire life. I mean, none'a the people I met through my parents would have let me in if I had shown up on their doorstep after midnight 'n I do-"

Race places his hand over her mouth, smiling fondly as she finally looks up at him.

"You talk a lot, you knows that?" He teases. "Like, more than anyone one I knows. Even Davey, and his nickname is Mouth."

"Sorry," she mumbles against his skin, and Race smiles again.

He pulls his hand away, pulling his hat off of his head. He leans against the wall, running a hand through his hair with an overdramatic look of contemplation on his face.

"I don't care much for ruffian," he finally says, "but street rat, that I can get behind."

"What do you mean?"

Race shrugs a bit, taking a step closer to her.

"I could be your street rat, if you wants me to be."

"I..." she trails off, furrowing her eyebrows, "what are you sayin'?"

"You know what I'm sayin'," he whispers, leaning closer to her.

"Race..."

"Jus' say the word, if you wants me to stop," he mutters, placing a gentle hand on her waist.

His breath fans over her face, and her eyes flutter down to his lips. A feeling of longing forms in her stomach.

It's her that finally closes the gap between them, twisting his shirt in her fist and pulling his lips down onto hers. Race pulls her closer, chests flush against each other as her hands tangle in his curls.

"This is," she pulls back a bit, but Race kisses her chastely again, "improper. We're in an alley, an-"

He pulls her back to him, placing both his hands on her cheeks as he presses another kiss to her lips.

"If I worried everyday 'bout what's proper 'n what's not I would never do anythin' else," Race says, shaking his head, "if you don't want this, I'll respect that," he whispers, "I don't wanna force you into anythin'."

He moves backwards, but she chases his lips with her own, placing her hand on the back of his neck to bring his head down.

"Sorry," she mumbles against his mouth, "that was the old me slippin' through. This is just...all new, 'm still gettin' used to it."

"But it's what you want?" He asks, carding a hand through her hair.

"More than anything."

He kisses her again, fully and properly, and the girl melts into his touch. Race practically pins her against the brick wall, hand resting on her jawline.

"You don't mind settlin' for a street rat?" He teases, trailing his lips down her neck.

"Considerin' I'm one'a you now," she smiles, "it ain't settlin' at all."


End file.
